


What Yours Knows So Well

by flamewarflipsides



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alliance, Conversation, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Meeting, hail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamewarflipsides/pseuds/flamewarflipsides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mewtwo is still hiding from humanity, and a hailstorm has forced him to try to find shelter at a truck stop. He picks the warmest vehicle on lot, a red and blue semi, and gets more than he bargained for. For the Cybertronians' crossover mini-contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Yours Knows So Well

He kept his head down as he blew across the field with the wind, bare toes pounding the hard-packed dirt so hard he almost pitied the earth. He dared not think about the quality of footprints he left behind him, or the trainers who might follow them. The hail rained down on him like tiny bullets as he ran. They would leave marks, even if they couldn’t piece his cloak or skin.

What an inconvenience.

He fought the urge to to visualize clear skies and will them into being. Mewtwo took a little comfort in knowing that he could end the storm, but that comfort sloughed off with the hail as he remembered the attention such a choice would bring.

Finally he reached the shelter, a little truck depot outside the latest city he had taken to haunting. He ducked under a sign that promised “last stop until the bridge,” then emerged onto the pavement. The worry of footprints slipped temporarily from his mind.

The hail, however, pursued him, and he saw no end to it in sight. Aching bruises had begun to catch up to him, and he resigned himself to needing shelter. He glanced toward the building, lit up, humans slipping in and out, chatting and smiling, and discarded that possibility. Mewtwo decided to break into a vehicle and hope its owner took his time in the depot.

He slipped between the rows, truck after truck, waving a wet paw near their engines to look for warmth. He found it in a garish thing, a red long-nosed tractor painted with blue flames. Looking over each shoulder for human eyes, Mewtwo scraped his toes on the step and reached out for the door lock with his mind. He pulled up on it, and after far more effort than he expected, finally it gave. He tugged the door latch with his central finger and leaped into the truck.

The inside hardly seemed warmer than the storm, making him regret his choice. Mewtwo flopped into the passenger’s seat and shut the door with his telekinetic powers, sighing with relief. Then he shifted his hips out, pulling his torso further down into the seat.

“This will have to do,” he reassured himself, keeping his psychic voice low and stifling a whimper in his throat.

Mewtwo curled up there, sinking lower as he drew his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his tail around his shins, shuddering to warm himself. His wet cloak pressed into the fur of his bottom, and he silently prayed that the truck’s owner travelled alone. Talking to himself, he grumbled, “What a cramped place to weather the storm. I suppose a Pokeball would be worse.”

“No driver will approach us,” echoed a voice from the shadows. “You may rest here without fear.”

The deep voice startled Mewtwo. He fought his way to his feet, summoning a shadow ball between his inner and outer fingers, roaring, “Show yourself!”

“I am the tractor into which you have climbed,” the voice replied. “I am not human, and I mean you no harm.”

Mewtwo lowered his arm, bracing himself against a seat with his tail. “What trickery is this?”

“My name is Optimus Prime, and I am the truck in which you stand. No human will enslave you here, but you should sit so that they do not detect us.”

The suggestion annoyed him, but he complied anyway, seeing the wisdom in it. “How can a truck speak? Are you a Rotom?”

“I am a being from another world, here on a mission of peace,” he answered. “My people have similarities to both your kind and humanity, but we are also unlike both.”

“You resemble human transportation,” Mewtwo remarked, sneering.

“We can mimic the appearance of machines if we choose. This helps us to blend in on worlds like yours. My attempts to scan what you would call a Steelix were unsuccessful.”

Mewtwo nodded, silently continuing the Rotom comparison in his mind.

“What is your name?”

“I have no name,” Mewtwo sneered, “But I am called Mewtwo.”

The truck paused before answering. “It is an honor to meet you, Mewtwo. “ After another moment, he added. “Please do not be frightened; I am about to start my engine.”

Mewtwo started to protest, but the engine in front of him roared to life. Then a dial clicked before him on the console, blasting in warm air through a vent.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I am attempting to help you warm yourself. You seem cold.”

Mewtwo looked away. “I do not need your charity.”

“I only extend to you what I would have hoped your planet offers its visitors.” After another pause, the vehicle continued. “I once hoped this world would treat strangers better than its residents, but hearing of your plight emphasizes how little that would mean.”

Mewtwo fought a shudder. “What do you know of my plight?”

“You flee from humans despite your abilities, which would give you a physical advantage against them in a confrontation. You fear enslavement, though you are sentient and sapient, as they are.” Optimus fell silent a moment. “I do not know your story, Mewtwo, but I understand a life lived in the shadows of others’ achievements.”

“Then why do you come to this planet? Surely you have your own?”

The truck sat silent, heater sputtering briefly.

“Well?”

“My home is gone. My people seek another place to live. However, when we find our new home… we do not all agree on how it should be run. More war awaits us there.”

Mewtwo looked down, trying not to let his feelings show on his face. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Perhaps we can help each other,” Optimus said. “I can provide you with shelter, and a place to hide that humans will be less inclined to check. You can help me navigate this world and find what I need to send my people on our way. Further, if your people wish to put an end to their oppression, then I would assist them in finding a peaceful way to freedom.”

Mewtwo leaned back in the seat, shaking his head. “Few Pokemon believe they are enslaved. They willingly follow humans who would exploit and maim them. Those whose trainers treat them well would die for their masters.” He tried to block the boy’s face out of his mind.

“We cannot free ourselves from bonds we cannot see,” Optimus added. “Shall we drive somewhere less populous, so you may sit more comfortably in that seat?”

Mewtwo weighed his options, staring at the dash. Could he trust this alien? Would they be safer together than apart?

“Drive, Optimus Prime. We have much to discuss.”

“Yes, we do. However, before we leave, Mewtwo, I give you my word: so long as we travel together here, I will fight to maintain your freedom.”

That brought a grin to Mewtwo’s feline face. “I have fought and nearly died for the freedom of others like me, but you I shall protect through my wits. Stay off that bridge; it has tolls.”

As Optimus pulled out of the parking spot, Mewtwo could almost imagine him smiling. The alien replied, bemused, “I had suspected as much.”

Mewtwo smirked as the rows of trucks disappeared behind the corners of his eyes, then reached up to adjust the hood of his cloak. He climbed over into the driver’s seat. The belt snaked out next to his paw, into view. Mewtwo took hold and pressed it into the latch carefully. The belt across his chest and stomach felt almost familiar in their warmth, and as they drove, the sun peeked out through the clouds.


End file.
